Savior, Destroyer
by Soleneus
Summary: A Lawbringer does his job and suddenly, the future of the Legion, the Warborn, and the Chosen has changed. Saul Blackstone might become the catalyst for a future upheaval, but all he cares about his protecting and teaching his young charge and bringing law to the lawless, order to chaos, using his strength to protect the weak, and discovering his heritage. For Honor AU.


The village was rather small, on the outskirts of Ashfeld and away from most Legion influence. The buildings were made mostly of wood and were sturdy, which was all the good things one could say about them, and there was a defensible wall wrapped around it that was rarely manned. Most men and women spent their time cutting purses, cutting throats, getting drunk or whoring; possibly all in one night.

Those that bothered with such things named it 'Iniquis.' Lawless.

Fitting.

Strangers were not an unusual sight, given the village's lawlessness and reputation as a place to disappear, though this one was an eye-catcher due to his size and stature. He towered over even the tallest man and if he hadn't, his glacial blue eyes that bore into the soul would've made it seem like he was looking down on everyone anyway. His clothing was simple and inexpensive, again, not unusual, but underneath were muscles that seemed to have been forged from steel and molded by a master craftsman.

Not only was he big, he was quick, too. The one thief who had attempted to cut his purse strings had his wrist casually pulverized by a large hand; and when a brawl broke out and tried to pull him in, the large man had almost elegantly put all comers through a nearby window. Throughout all of it, the man rarely spoke, and only in the bluntest manner possible.

He'd stayed in Iniquis for a week, silently judging all who fell under his gaze and daring them to attack him, but most shied away. The one exception was a small girl with wispy blonde hair and large green eyes, who always watched him from just out of sight, but she spoke even less than he did and avoided his eyesight at all times.

There was a panic emerging in the village, as word from one of the few scouts who took their job seriously reported back a raiding party of Warborn was fast on the approach, and who would overtake them in two day's time. At the gathering where this was announced, Amycus, the 'leader' of Iniquis, turned to the large man with desperate eyes. "Please, Lawbringer," he begged, "You must help us!"

The villagers turned to large man with mixed awe and fear. Lawbringers. The justice in all of Legion territory, enforcing the law and dispensing punishment with a halberd and thick plate armor. Thought to be unstoppable, merciless and insanely durable, they were the bane of everyone who ignored the law.

…And one had secretly been among them for a week.

The Lawbringer stood at his full height, staring down at Amycus with inscrutable features. "And why do you deserve _help_?" He replied, his deep voice dripping with scorn. "I've watched you all, and I've never seen such a decrepit hive of scum and villany. You are a blight on the face of this earth, undeserving of mercy or _justice_."

He spat on the ground, leveling a chilling glare at the villagers. "You'll receive no help from me, _scum._ Pray the Gods find you deserving, because _I do not."_

With his judgement leveled, the Lawbringer spun on his heel and marched from the village, passing through the gate and disappearing into the surrounding trees. As the villagers began to panic, the little girl watched the man's back with eyes that were wide with a mix of incredulity and anger. With a shake of her head, she turned and vanished into the village, determined to squirrel away some food and shelter for the night.

She would survive, no matter what.

From the nearby tavern, a bearded man watched with a dark smirk, downing his drink and leaving to make his report. Seemed the lawlessness of such a place was too much for even one of _them_. No matter, it only made the village an easier target.

The next day dawned with anxiety, and Amycus and his men managed to browbeat everyone else into some state of calm and order, manning the walls and building what defenses they could before the raid.

When night fell, they could hear the stomping of feet, cheers and laughter of the raiding party echoing towards them. Fifty men and women, dressed in the hardened leather armor of the Warborn, carrying with them ladders, long spears and carts of arrows, but no battering ram. They thought Iniquis was a soft target, unworthy of the their full might.

They weren't wrong.

As Amycus nocked an arrow to his bow, he cursed the Lawbringer who had left them to die.

…

Ten men stood at the back of the raiding party, raining flaming arrows over the wall and at the defenders. Commanding them were a man and a woman, both taller and better armored than the bowmen. They laughed and talked to one another as the raid commenced, wishing they could be in the midst of battle with the others.

Above them, a pair of glacial blue eyes watched them dispassionately, before disappearing behind a helm. The branch he stood on creaked in protest of his weight, but the Lawbringer ignored it, hefting a long polearm over his shoulder and taking aim.

The man below, playing with the dual axes of a Berserker, opened his mouth to laugh when a length of steel penetrated his chest and drove him to the ground, pinning him to the earth with a crunch of bone and a spray of blood. The Warborn woman gazed at him in shock, as it seemed the gods had cut him down, before she turned her eyes skyward.

Just in time to see a pair of black plate boots fill her vision.

The Lawbringer landed with a heavy crash, pulping the Viking's head under his feet and raising a cloud of dust. The bowmen slowly turned around when they realized commands weren't being shouted at them, to find the Lawbringer rising to his feet slowly, withdrawing his polearm from the corpse with a squelch and casually setting it on his shoulder.

His armor was made of thick plates decorated with a pair of spikes on one shoulder, and covered him from his head to his feet. It was colored black, like that of wrought iron, scarred and pitted from many life-or-death battles. A badge of solid bronze metal hung from his chest on a chain, and a half-skirt of ragged orange and black cloth hung around his waist.

The most striking feature though, was his helm. It was rather small, honestly, but bore the empty eye sockets and general shape of skull, with a pair of small nose-holes and a mouthpiece that had holes in it. In flickering light of their torches and the darkness of night, it seemed as if Death itself, bearing a Headsman's axe, had come for them.

They weren't wrong.

"I will give you one chance," the Lawbringer spoke, his voice tinged with a metallic echo. The Warborn jumped slightly, not expecting him to speak in their language. "You can walk away now…or you can die fighting. Your choice."

The Warborn chose the latter, firing at him as they shouted insults at the top of their lungs. If there was one thing to admire about the Warborn, it was that they didn't fear death. Even when they should have.

The Lawbringer charged forward, ignoring the paltry sparks of the arrowheads ricocheting off his armor as he swung his halberd, cleaving through two men with one strike. Skulls were smashed in with the backswing of the hammer, cutting down another pair. He swung his weapon with a surprising grace and speed, crushing through the hardened leather armor and wiping them from the face of the world.

The man sighed and turned his attention to the raiding party, scrambling up ladders leaned against the wooden walls as the defenders shot down at them or hacked at the ones who had made it to the top. The rest of the party waited at the gates, clamoring for the chance to pillage. They hadn't noticed the lack of arrows on their side, but they would soon.

The armored Lawbringer drew his halberd up, grasping it with both hands and charged forward. His loud, clanging steps were the only warning the raiding party got before he crashed into their unprotected backs like a tidal wave. Before they could muster a defense, he was in the middle of them, scything through them like so much wheat, his heavy weapon shattering shields and tearing through their armor as if it were paper. Every swing divested at least two men of life, the Bringer following his momentum, spinning into a whirlwind of destruction.

The leaders of the party noticed that the screams they heard were coming from behind them, and turned to find their soldiers dead, and the Lawbringer bearing on down them. He impaled one through the stomach and heaved her over him, slamming her head into ground with crack, before lashing out with the staff of his weapon and stunning another, hooking the bottom of the axe blade around the Warborn's foot and pulling the ground out from underneath him.

The raider had only the chance to look up before the blade was brought down on his face. The only bastion of justice pulled his weapon free, turning to the last of the raiding party even as the defenders were victorious, throwing the last ladder down. With the appearance of the Lawbringer who had forsaken them, the villagers had drawn on the well of their morale and fought back all the harder, taking great losses but handing the Warborn something they did not expect.

Defeat.

The heavily-armored justice dispenser set the end of his halberd on ground, sinking in the mud of blood and dirt. "You've lost," he announced, the blood on his armor shimmering in the firelight, the empty eye sockets of the his helm glaring at them. "I know of your pride, Warborn. So, I challenge the leader of this party to a duel. If I win, you will leave and never return. If you win, you may leave."

A large man stepped forward, a band of gold decorating his helm and large, braided red beard hung from his chin. "A duel?" He laughed boisterously, though it held an edge of bitterness. "You just tore through thirty men like they were nothing! You will make a worthy opponent! But one man against you, even myself…that is unfair."

The Lawbringer tilted his head in thought. "You're trying to bait me. I accept." He held up two fingers. "Two warriors against myself. If this is still 'unfair', I will simply kill you now."

The leader chuckled, patting a larger man next to him on the shoulder. His beard was shorter but just as red, and he wielded a great-axe. "My son and I shall face you, Lawbringer," the Warlord stated, banging his sword against his shield. "I am Falk Firebeard, my son is named Jormund. Tell me your name so that I may drink to it, in Valhalla or in my hall."

The Lawbringer brought a fist to his chest, the clang of metal echoing through the still night. "Saul Blackstone," he replied, giving a short bow, not taking his eyes off them. He gave his weapon a short spin before leveling the tip at them and crouching slightly.

The two Warborn readied their weapons as well and approached slowly, under the eyes of their own men and women and the defenders still on the wall. Blackstone jabbed at the elder Firebeard with his spear, testing his defenses. The Viking batted the strike away with his shield and swung widely with his sword, even as his son struck out with his axe.

The Lawbringer drew back and deflected the axe with the haft of his halberd, sparks briefly lighting the night. The Warlord deftly hopped to the side, putting the Legion soldier in between himself and his son and stabbed at the armored back, his blade skittering off the thick plate.

Blackstone fended off another strike from the Raider, drawing his weapon back and striking the elder Firebeard's shield with his pommel. The younger Warborn let loose a bellowing roar and charged at him swinging his axe with all the power he could muster; the Lawbringer nimbly hopped back and ducked under a sword strike from behind, driving his elbow into Firebeard's helm-covered face before lashing out at the younger, slicing into his uncovered stomach with tip of the spear.

The other Warborn and the defenders watched the duel with warring feelings of awe and fear. It was clear all three combatants were masters of the Art of Battle. The elder Firebeard was more cautious, keeping his shield up and only attacking when his son had the Lawbringer focused on his strong, wide attacks.

But it was also becoming clear that they were outmatched. The halberd was an ungainly weapon to the untrained eye, with its great weight of the combined axe-spear-hammer head. But, in the hands of a master, that weight became the catalyst for surprising grace and speed, its great length allowing defense and attack from the front and the back. It was only a matter of time.

When Blackstone switched his attention to the Warlord to defend himself against a sudden onslaught of blows, the Raider put his shoulder down and charged at his enemy's back with a shout. The Lawbringer heard him coming and pushed the elder Firebeard away, twisting and striking the younger across face with the pommel of his halberd, and this lack of attention allowed the elder to close the distance and lock them together.

The blade of sword ground against the haft of the Lawbringer's weapon and quivered near his shoulder, the halberd locked between the Warborn's shield and sword. Behind Blackstone's back, Jormund Firebeard swung his axe over his head and roared, swinging it down with all his might aimed at the Lawbringer's head.

Blackstone shifted his grip, pushing his the bracer against the blade on his shoulder and dropped his halberd. Suddenly lacking a force to push against, Falk Firebeard's shield shot up, and the law man seized the edge and pulled the Warborn closer, taking a step back just as the head of the greataxe passed by his head and buried itself in the wrong body.

Firebeard roared in pain as the blade cleaved through his leather pauldron and dug into his shoulder, nearly separating his arm from his body. His grip on his sword fell slack and Blackstone grabbed him by the front of his armor and slammed their heads together. Firebeard's helm was made of wood, leather and only little metal, while the other's helm was solid metal.

Blackstone threw himself back, driving the younger Firebeard away and wrenching the axe free. He planted his foot and spun, striking the Warborn across the face with one gauntleted hand while the other fell on the injured Warlord's, wrenching his sword away before he turned back and impaled the elder on his own sword.

Jormund screamed with rage and blindly rushed the Lawbringer from behind, even as his father collapsed to his knees. Blackstone dug his foot under the haft of his halberd and flicked it up into his hand, grasping it tightly as he swung in a full circle.

The blade of his axe met the wooden shaft of Warborn's and cleaved through with a crunch, the spear tip cutting through the flesh of his chest with a spray of blood. The Lawbringer brought his weapon back, cracking the Raider's head with hammer side before hefting his halberd over his shoulder and swinging it down with a shout.

Bone and flesh parted with a squelch as the axe ripped through the Warborn's chest, only halting when it was buried in his pelvic bone. Blackstone ripped the blade out and Firebeard the younger stared at him uncomprehendingly, until his eyes dimmed and his body hit the ground with a thud.

The Lawbringer sighed and turned back to Falk Firebeard, who shifted a sorrowful gaze from his son to the victorious enemy. "If only you had born of us," the defeated Warlord sighed, shaking his head slowly, before fixing a piercing gaze on Blackstone, "Saul Blackstone, you said your name was?"

Saul nodded once.

"Such a common name," Falk muttered. "For one who did this, you deserve something better. Tell me, what is 'destroyer' in your language?"

"Vastator," he answered shortly, his face inscrutable behind his fearsome helm.

"I name you Vastator. You destroyed not only my party, but my family and most of my clan. For that, you deserve to be known as Destroyer," Firebeard proclaimed, before he hacked blood. "Now, please, end it. Claim your victory."

Saul Blackstone, Vastator, hefted his halberd over his shoulder. "Go to your gods with your pride intact, Firebeard," he said, his firm but not unkind. "Rejoin your son."

The Warlord tilted his head back, his eyes fixing on the heavens before he went among them. The axe passed through his neck with ease, blood gushing forth as his head rolled on the ground and his body slumped in death.

Blackstone sighed quietly, tilting his halberd up and setting the pommel on the ground. He turned his gaze on the four remaining Warborn, the empty skull of his helm leering at them and they flinched back in fear. He tilted his head to side. "Leave, and never return."

They nodded and left, not at run but at quick walk, their tails between their legs all the same.

The Lawbringer knelt at the headless corpse of Firebeard, withdrawing the sword with a soft sucking noise. He examined the blade closely, testing its balance in his hand before nodding and cleaning it with a handful of grass, taking the sheath from the body and tying it to his belt and sliding the sword home.

The arrow-marked gates creaked open, admitting the battered and worn defenders who gazed at the destruction with naked awe and fear. Amycus approached the Lawbringer cautiously, visibly gulping his fear down as the darkened eye sockets turned to him. "I can't thank you enough, Lawbringer," he said nervously. "Although you damned us, you still returned to save us."

Blackstone snorted. "I damned you because I knew they had a scout watching you. I swore an oath to protect the innocent and the weak, to bring order to chaos. I would not ignore them so lightly, even if what I said was true." He brought his halberd down, pointing it at Amycus. "Your 'village' is pit of debauchery, but you should count yourself lucky that there are honest men and women among you, for it is they whom I returned to save, not you."

The leader of Iniquis shrugged carelessly. "No matter, Lawbringer. It still stands at the end of the day, and that is all I care for. I thank you for your assistance, but I demand you leave. Now that the threat is gone, we have no need of you."

"Ha!" Saul laughed harshly. "I will leave, but while I was gone this day, I sent a message to my Order. They are sending a contingent of soldiers and Wardens, who will maintain law and order in your village. _This_ is the price of my mercy." At their angry protests, the Lawbringer slammed the butt of his weapon in the ground, throwing out an arm at the bodies around them. " _Unless_ you would like to challenge my judgement?"

Amycus went pale at the reminder and closed his mouth, twitching in anger. " _Leave!_ " He ground out.

"They'll be here within the week. If you do not welcome them, if I am forced to come back…" The Lawbringer rested his weapon on his shoulder and marched off, stepping over the field of bodies he had planted.

Since the battle had begun, a pair of wide green eyes watched everything through a gap in wooden wall. They'd seen everything, including the slaughter of the raiders and the duel to the death. Throughout the battle, those eyes never closed in fear or disgust, only watching in fascination as one man decimated a much larger group, fought for his life with honor, and even honored his opponent as he beheaded them, before intimidating half a village with his words alone.

It was so different than what they'd seen while living in Iniquis, where honor was a word bandied about by idiots who would end up robbed or dead by the end of the night. The strong thrived and the weak squirmed under their boots.

As the Lawbringer disappeared into the trees for the second time in as many days, a small figure followed after him, wispy blonde hair trailing after her as she disappeared into the bushes.

…

Saul Blackstone, as he was named, walked with a long, steady stride through the trees and undergrowth of the forest, his armor clanking with every step. Though he appeared casual, or as casual as one could appear in full plate and carrying a halberd, he was prepared for anything. He wouldn't put it past the Warborn or the villagers to set an ambush for him, and he was ready to defend himself if it came down to that.

He was aware of the person following him, but they'd made no moves to attack him, only watch, so he let them be. As Saul approached a quietly flowing stream, he stopped near the edge of the water and close to a dense thicket of brambles, sticking the head of his weapon inside and levering out a heavy leather pack that he beside him.

The Lawbringer pushed a heavy log with his foot until it was sitting against a standing tree, then sat upon it and set his weapon across his knees, withdrawing a small sealed flask and a pair of rags. With easy motions borne of long practice, he cleaned his halberd of blood and viscera, cleaning the rag in the water when it became drenched. When that was done, he took the other strip of cloth and dabbed it with oil, treating the edges with care and surprising gentleness.

With that done, he set his weapon aside and began to unbuckle the multiple straps holding his plate to his body, the heavy metal hitting the ground with dull, echoing thuds. Underneath, he wore a long coat of metal rings that tinkled softly with every movement and shone in the low light. Saul diligently cleaned every inch of his armor and treated it as well, before finally setting it aside and stripping his mail off to do the same.

The final layer was treated leather, which he was content to leave be in favor of washing his face in the stream, sighing contentedly at the chilled water. A few minutes later, he had reached into the stream and grabbed a few rocks to make a firepit, using a small knife, flint and dry twigs to get a fire started. With a small pot and water from the stream, he had the beginnings of stew boiling away soon enough.

Saul let his mind wander as he cut strips of dried meat and a pair of potatoes from his pack into chunks, tossing them into the pot along with a pinch of salt and dried herbs from a small bag. The presence he felt following him was still there, watching him from the bushes. After hours of cleaning and maintaining his gear, they either had the patience of a saint or weren't there to kill him. Without his armor, he was as vulnerable as anyone else.

As the stew cooked, he retrieved his trophy and examined it in the firelight. The blade was around two and a half feet long, scarred and worn from many years of use, but it was well-cared for. Besides a pair of decorative knots carved in the guard, the only ornamentation was a small band of gold just before the pommel, which was made of banded black onyx.

It was a fine weapon, and a good trophy; the kind that could be used. With a quiet grunt of satisfaction, he pulled a whetstone from his pack and began to hone the edge, the quiet shriek of metal against stone oddly rhythmic. When he was satisfied, he cleaned it treated it, admiring how the light reflected off the metal. Tilting it towards the bush he knew he was being watched from, Blackstone could just make out a pair of wide green eyes shining in the firelight.

The child that had been following him back at Iniquis. Apparently, she'd followed him. As long as she meant no harm, he'd leave her be.

He pulled the pot off the fire and served himself a bowl of hot stew, eating carefully. Saul smiled into his bowl as he heard the quiet groan of an empty stomach. Finishing another bowl, there was just about half left, which he set a lid on before washing his bowl and setting it nearby. Then, under the moonlight, he unfurled a bedroll, leaving the blanket blatantly sticking out of his pack, pulled his mail coat over himself and rolled over.

He was asleep in seconds.

Twenty minutes later, when the fire had died down to white coals, the girl snuck out of the bush and quietly ate a bowl of stew. With as much stealth as she had, the girl washed and replaced the bowl before plucking the blanket out of the pack and curling up under it, close to firepit. With as much noise as the mail made with every breath, she'd know when the Lawbringer awoke and would be able to scramble off.

Saul watched as she fell asleep, smiling slightly at her quiet snores, and let himself rest.

…

When he woke the next day, he kept his eyes closed and rocked under the metal rings, making them chime quietly. He heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by a subdued rustling as the girl quickly rolled up the blanket, stuck it in his pack, and fled.

With a yawn, Saul rose and ate the remainder of last night's meal, washing the pot and utensils before packing them away and donning mail, followed by the numerous plates of armor, his belts and pouches, his new sword, and his pack before taking up his halberd and making his way through the trees. He left his helm hanging from his belt, leaving his head bare in the sunlight.

There was a trade route nearby, which he could follow to an inn or a village until his wandering was over and he received new orders. As he strode through the brush, he let the sensation of warmth and cool from the sun and wind wash over his head. As protective as they were, a helm was not enjoyable to wear at all times.

Saul paused under a tree, looking up to find fat, yellow and green pears hanging from the branches. He struck the trunk with the pommel of his halberd and the tree shook, dropping fruit like rain. He stretched the mouth of his pack and let several land on the blanket inside. With a smile, the Lawbringer grabbed a few more from the ground and the branches, putting most away but leaving a small pile near the trunk for the girl; if she was still following him.

He picked one last pear and took a bite as he continued on his journey.

The trade road was empty when he reached it, which suited him just fine. In their heavy plate, carrying their intimidating weapons, Lawbringers were met with trepidation and nervousness from most walks of life, even though only lawbreakers need fear them.

The day came to a close and he set up another fire and cooked more stew, drinking from a waterskin and eating pears for dessert. As he had before, Saul left some food and his blanket out for his little follower, and she ate and slept after she assumed he was asleep.

…

The next two days played out much the same way, with the Lawbringer traveling and his little follower trailing him while he patiently waited for her to reveal herself. On the third day, at the fire he lit, Saul set his cleaned armor aside and pulled out his namesake. A chunk of obsidian that he then chipped pieces off of using a small stone hammer and chisel, shaping the piece into an arrowhead.

He set it aside and retrieved a new acquisition: a simple longbow that he had bought from a pale trader for a few discs of beaten silver, along with a small bundle of feathers and sinew. He carved a thin, straight shaft from a branch and fitted the arrowhead and feather to it, sighting down it and nodding.

With his tool in working order, Saul left his armor behind and went hunting. In short order, he'd found a stag and downed it with a shot to the heart. The arrowhead was chipped but would still be useable for maybe one more shot, which worked for him. He had it skinned and took the choice cuts of meat, a few thick bones and a length of sinew, carrying what he could and leaving the rest for the scavengers.

His campsite was undisturbed when he returned and Blackstone set about building another fire to dry and cure the meat, while the rest was spit on sticks and set over the flames to roast. The skin was treated and left to hang with the sinew to dry, and the bones would be boiled with a few fresh-picked vegetables to make broth.

As the meat cooked, Saul sighed and turned to a nearby bush. "I've been waiting patiently for you to introduce yourself," he said to empty air, "But this is getting ridiculous."

It was silent for a moment, before the bush rustled and the girl emerged with leaves and small twigs in her hair. "How long have you known?" She asked simply, sitting across the fire from him, dark green eyes peering at him from a dirty face.

"Since the first night," he replied with a shrug, enjoying the surprised look on her face. "Did you think I wouldn't notice you following me, or taking the scraps I left out for you, little mouse?"

She glared at him. "That's _not_ my name," she insisted, though without real heat.

He arched an eyebrow curiously. "What is your name?"

The girl shook her head silently, looking away from him and brushing a hand through her messy hair, dislodging a pair of leaves.

Saul shrugged. "Well, I'll just call you Mouse, then." He ignored her small glare and took the venison off the flames to cool. "So, why are you following me, Mouse? What do you want?"

She eyed the spits of meat hungrily, but turned her gaze to him. "Why do you do it?" She asked in lieu of answering. "Why do you fight to protect others? You could've left the village to burn, but you came back anyway. Why?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Because I swore an oath, to protect the innocent, uphold the law, and bring order to chaos. That village was a pit, yes, but if I left everyone to die, I wouldn't be any better than them." Blackstone rubbed a hand over his stubbled cheek, sighing. "I am strong, and thus it is my duty to protect the weak and give them strength through the law. I do what others cannot."

"But why?" she asked quietly. "If they are weak, why should the strong protect them?"

"There is more to strength than just power," he rebuked gently. "They may start weak, as we all do; but with proper guidance and patience, they can become strong. And the strength of allies is always greater than the strength of one."

"But you act alone," Mouse pointed out. "You defeated the raiders by yourself, cowed a village with your power. Why not take what you wanted?"

Saul shrugged gently. "I already did. I protected the weak and laid down the law. That's all I want." He paused, his eyes flapping away. "That's not entirely true, but they didn't have what I _really_ wanted. And yes, while I did defeat my enemies on my lonesome, my armor and weapons were crafted for me, my skills and strength built by others more experienced. It's by their strength that I grew my own."

Mouse hummed quietly, looking at the ground in thought. The Lawbringer grabbed a spit for himself and reached across to hand the other to her. She took it with a murmured thanks and dug in, silence filling the air besides the crackling of flames.

As they ate, their thoughts ran rough-shod in their heads. "You have a strange mindset for a child, Mouse," Blackstone started around a mouthful of meat. "How did you come to form it?"

"I'm an orphan," the blonde girl admitted with a small shrug. "No one ever gave me anything, I had to take what I needed. I was stronger than them, faster and smarter. The other children feared my strength, and were afraid of me. They'd give me things to get in my favor. Just like I saw the adults doing."

He gave her a strange look, not pitying but something deeper. "I see. I am an orphan, as well. Left on the steps of the Lawbringer's Order in a blanket, they're the ones who took me in and made me who I am today. You, though, had to rely on your strength to survive while I was trained." Saul sighed. "An unfortunate fate, but one you've made your own."

She nodded resolutely, tearing a chunk of meat off her spit. "I watched you, when you slaughtered them," Mouse said, drawing his attention. "They couldn't stand against you, even when you were outnumbered. You're strong."

Blackstone nodded slowly. "I am. Not the strongest, but I can hold my own. You never told me why you followed me, Mouse."

"I want you to teach me," she said, her eyes firm, "You said that we all start weak, but with patience and guidance we can be strong. I thought I was strong, but you are far stronger. I want to be strong, too."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "I can't train you to be a Lawbringer," he stated, holding up a hand to stave off her objection. "I was trained since birth, fed a certain diet and taught a certain way that is only effective from the very beginning. I can, however, teach you how to fight, how to survive. But, do you really want this, to travel with me? I walk in blood, death and chaos. If you come with me, you'll see firsthand just how horrible humanity can be."

Her eyes were shining with excitement, even as she snorted. "I've seen eight winters in Iniquis," Mouse replied dryly, "I've seen the worst already."

Saul chuckled deeply, but it was far from humorous. "You've only scratched the surface," he replied, his eyes flat and hard. "But, if you're that determined, far be it for me to deny your wish after following me for four days."

Her face was stoic, but her eyes glittered with anticipation. "Thank you," Mouse said quietly.

"You won't thank me for very long," he warned dryly.

"If it will make me stronger, I will," she replied with determination.

Blackstone leaned back against the log he was using as a seat. "Alright then, but don't say I didn't warn you…Little Mouse."

"Don't call me that."

"Too late."

…

…

…

…

 **A/N: Hey now, look at that, a new story for your viewing pleasure. It wasn't actually on the poll, but a certain person named Archodus Vaxal poked my already throbbing interest and I just c-to end this weird metaphor, I'll just say I was already interested in For Honor and the Big Bad, Apollyon.**

 **If you don't know, her story starts with her village about to raided, and a Lawbringer leaving them to die. She tracks him down and kills him, which forms her whole 'Sheep and Wolves' mentality. Here, it played out differently, and thus it all plays out differently.**

 **It's actually a funny story, but the aforementioned Archodus Vaxal only had to mention For Honor as a potential Saul story (while I'm writing the next JotWE chap, even), I was thinking about it when I got on the bus, and when I got home, I had a title, four arcs and the main characters, Saul Blackstone who is also known as Vastator (Destroyer) and Mouse. That was about three days ago, so hate him or praise him, he got it started.**

 **Hope you like and if you did, vote for it on the Poll! I might just write a bit more even if it isn't the winner, but we'll see.**

 **Big thanks as always to NorthSouthGorem and Kurogane7 for their editing and help, give them a look and shout from me!**

 **Actually, I will. HEY NORTH, KURO!**

 **NS: Yo.**

 **Kuro: Yo.**

 **I'm shouting at you. That's it.**

 **Stay Awesome.**

 **~Soleneus**

 **P.S.: Seriously, For Honor is a lot of fun, and with the whole 'thousand years of war' thing, I won't feel bad bringing in some advancements in medicine or food storage, small things. Also, Lawbringer is one of the best classes. :P Come at me bro! Oh wait, you can't, I impaled you on my halberd and threw you off a cliff.**

 **Ha!**

 **Stay Awesome Some More!**

 **~still Soleneus**


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